


Coffees for Closers

by shadow_djinni



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Slow Burn, Space Coffeeshop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_djinni/pseuds/shadow_djinni
Summary: A veteran and an engineering student meet in a coffeeshop--and fall in love.





	1. Espresso

“How much will it cost me to fill a large cup with espresso?”

Sendak stared in horror at the Galra on the other side of the counter.  The Galra stared back with unblinking golden eyes, his expression deadly serious.  It was an intimidating look, especially from someone so small and delicate-looking.  “...I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” he asked.

The other Galra sighed, then said again, “How much will it cost me to fill a large cup with espresso?”

Sendak back down at the register, then back up at his customer.  “The largest espresso option we have is four shots, um--”

“Then how many additional shots is it going to be?”

“...Sixteen.”  He wasn’t serious, was he?

The other Galra looked Sendak in the eye and slapped a credit chip down on the counter, and Sendak felt something shrivel up and die inside of him.  He  _ was _ serious.  Sendak totaled up the order, ran the chip, and handed it back over.  Then he grabbed a large cup off the stack and snatched a marker from the cup beside the register with his other hand--the new prosthetic, the one he was still learning to use properly.  He twirled it around his fingers for flourish.  The other Galra’s eyes tracked the movement, ears pricking up with interest.  Just as Sendak had intended, and he didn’t even drop the marker that time.  He placed the tip lightly against the side of the cup.

“What’s the name on that order?” he asked.

The other Galra swallowed hard, eyes still on Sendak’s steel fingers.  “--Haxus.  It’s Haxus.”

Sendak penned the characters as neatly as he could, watching the other Galra--Haxus--out of the corner of his eye.  Haxus’s gaze was still fixed on the prosthetic, and Sendak felt his ruff rise.  He recapped the marker, tried to tamp down the churning low in his gut.

“Alright,” he said.  “I’ll call you when your order’s ready.”

Haxus blinked, clearly startled, and tore his gaze away from Sendak’s prosthetic.  “Ah--thank you,” he said, and flashed Sendak a shy half-smile.

He was gone before Sendak could respond, darting back over to one of the tables by the cafe’s windows.  Sendak stared after him.   _ Twenty shots of espresso _ .  Did Haxus  _ want _ a heart attack?  Hell,  _ Sendak _ wouldn’t chance that much caffeine at once, and he was half again Haxus’s size.  He glanced back at the register.  Nope, not a hallucination.

Apparently he’d been still long enough that Throk, the other barista in that day, leaned over his shoulder to peer at the register.

“What the  _ quiznak _ ?” Throk squeaked.  “Quattro with  _ sixteen extra _ \--oh, this is  _ Haxus _ , isn’t it?”

“You  _ know _ this guy?” Sendak asked.

“He’s in my programming class,” Throk said flippantly.  “Why, you want his number?”

Sendak slugged him in the shoulder.  “No, I want you to warn him that this much caffeine is going to kill him before he’s two-hundred and fifty.”   _ Want his number. _  Sendak didn’t  _ do _ numbers.  He didn’t do dating, either.  There hadn’t been time before his stint in the military, and after…

He clenched his cybernetic fingers into a fist until he could hear the gears creaking and groaning.  No more thinking about it.  He had twenty shots of espresso to prepare before the next wave of customers hit.  He let himself slip into the flow of drink preparation, losing the world around him in the roar of coffee grinders and the hissing and puffing of Café Daibazaal’s two overworked espresso machines.  Round after round after round, until at last the cup was full.  Sendak couldn’t help cringing a little.  That espresso would be bitter as regret when Haxus got it, having cooled between rounds.  He slapped the lid on top and headed for the pickup counter, letting Throk take over the espresso machines to handle the orders that had built up behind him.

“Haxus?” he called.

Haxus’s dark, sleek head popped up from his place over by the windows.  He’d been bowed over a textbook as thick as Sendak’s forearm, surrounded by spiral notebooks and dozens of colored pens and highlighters.  Well, that explained some things.  The hab's college was less than a week off from midterms--Sendak had covered over a dozen shifts from coworkers at this point, and the coffeehouse hosted gangs of undergrads from open to close.  Haxus darted through the throng at the other counter, skidding to a stop in front of Sendak.  He handed over the cup.  Haxus’s hands brushed against his--and didn’t shy away from the prosthetic’s cool steel fingertips.

“Thank you,” Haxus said.  He glanced back at the line, then added in an undertone, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Sendak chuffed.  “It’s no inconvenience,” he said, “but you know caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, right?”

Haxus offered him a lopsided smile.  “Midterms are going to kick my ass if I  _ do _ sleep.”

“Good luck, then,” Sendak said.  “And, hey, come back after it’s over and I’ll make you something that  _ won’t _ put you into cardiac arrest.”

“Trust me, I will,” Haxus replied.  “Thanks again.”

And then he was gone.  Sendak watched his retreating back.  He sure  _ hoped _ Haxus would be back--it would be a disappointment to learn his midterms had killed him.  Sendak ducked back over to the register, seamlessly trading places with Throk to take the next order.

He wondered what kind of drink Haxus preferred.  He  _ looked _ like a cold-brew person, but sometimes it was hard to tell.

Sendak couldn’t wait to find out.


	2. Double Latte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning classes, off-menu items, and a burgeoning crush that just won't quit.

Haxus was the opposite of a morning person, if he was being honest, and the only reason he’d signed up for a Seventh Varga engineering lab was because Seventh was the only time it was  _ offered _ this semester.  He couldn’t afford to put it off until next semester, when the afternoon lab was offered.  So here he was, two vargas earlier than he liked to be up, stumbling down the hab’s avenues to the coffeeshop between his apartment and campus.  He glanced blearily up at the sign to make sure he had the right place and shoved the door open, ignoring the tinkling bell that announced his entrance.

And froze.

Because the coffee god was on the opening shift.  

The light streaming through the window bounced off the warm-colored walls, making his fur glow red and gold where it hit.  Haxus had clearly interrupted him cleaning and reshelving coffee mugs, because he had a white cloth in one hand and a burnt-orange mug in the other, and Haxus couldn’t help but take a few ticks to admire the contrast between the blued steel of the cybernetic and the fiery glaze on the mug.  He let his eyes travel upwards to the coffee god’s face and found him already looking back.  A bolt of electricity arced down Haxus’s spine.  He couldn’t tear himself away from that honeyed gaze--it was very nearly enough to distract him from the scar arching down the other side of Coffee God’s face.  Somehow, the asymmetry pleased him.

He realized he’d been staring too long when Coffee God flashed him a welcoming smile and said, “Hey, welcome to Café Daibazaal.  Looks like you survived midterms, huh?”

“Just barely,” Haxus managed.  His throat felt too dry and tight to speak properly.  How had he  _ ordered _ last time with this deity on the other side of the counter?  He must have been more distracted by his studying than he’d thought.

And he was still staring.  He couldn’t look away.  This was a mistake and he was going to die of a barista-induced heart attack.

“So, what can I get you this time?” Coffee God asked, setting the mug aside and leaning an elbow on the counter.

Haxus had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting ‘your number’ like he wanted to.  He knew the rules: no flirting with baristas, or anyone else at work, because they didn’t have an opportunity to get away from you if they weren’t interested.

“I’m not sure,” he said instead, studying the menu so maybe the way his face and ears burned with embarrassment wouldn’t be quite so obvious.  “What would you suggest?”

Coffee God’s eye lit up at that.  “Not twenty shots of espresso, that’s for sure.”  He chuffed, and Haxus felt the heat of embarrassment slide down his neck.  “What are you looking for in a drink?”

“...I don’t actually know,” Haxus said.  “Something hot that will wake me up a little in time for class.”

“Espresso or brewed?” Coffee God asked.

Haxus eyed the board.  “What’s a ‘red eye’?”

Coffee God shook his head slightly.  “I wouldn’t suggest it.  That’s more of an ‘up late studying’ drink if you ask me.”

“Alright, then what would you suggest?” Haxus said, barely keeping the huff out of his voice.

“If you’re in the mood for a brewed coffee, Moons over Kaharios is a good darker roast,” Coffee God said.  “But if you want an espresso drink, if I were in your boots I’d order a double latte.”

Now that sounded interesting.  “I don’t see that on the menu,” Haxus said.

Coffee God grinned wickedly, flashing the barest hint of teeth.  The look sent a thrill curling down into the pit of Haxus’s stomach.  “It’s an off-menu item,” he said.  “A former barista showed it to me.  Four shots of espresso, double that in steamed milk, and the flavoring of your choice.”

“That sounds pretty good, actually,” Haxus said, and no, it  _ wasn’t _ because of the way that little flash of fangs made his toes curl and the fur on the back of his neck stand straight up.  He set his credit chip on the counter, not trusting himself to hand it over without dropping it.  Coffee God picked it up neatly, and Haxus felt his mouth go dry as he focused on the fine tips of the other Galra’s claws.

“Great,” Coffee God said.  “For here or to go?”

“To go,” Haxus said too quickly, and Coffee God snatched a small cup off the stack by the register.  

There was no marker-twirling today--if anything, Haxus noted a slight tremor in the prosthetic’s fingers--but his grip was as sure and steady as before when he rested the marker’s tip against the cup.  “It’s Haxus, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Haxus said quietly.  The marker darted, neatly inking Haxus’s name, and he said, “I’m afraid I didn’t get yours last time I was in here.”

“It was pretty hectic, wasn’t it,” Coffee God said, smiling wryly.  “I’m Sendak.”

“Sendak,” Haxus repeated, rolling the name around his mouth.  “It’s nice to have a proper introduction.”

“I agree,” said Sendak.  He put the marker away and looked up, meeting Haxus’s eyes.  “I almost forgot to ask what flavoring you wanted.”

Haxus shot a quick glance up at the menu board.  “Cinnamon?” he said cautiously.

“Good choice,” Sendak said.  Excitement coiled behind Haxus’s sternum.

And then Sendak ducked out of sight and the espresso machines began to roar, and Haxus all but shook himself out of it.  He glanced at the timepiece over the counter.  Quarter ‘til seven.  He had time, then, at least enough to get his coffee and maybe talk with Sendak a little more, unless--no.  Bad idea.  He was  _ not _ going to make himself a nuisance, no matter  _ how _ much he liked Sendak.

He’d sunk so deep into that thought spiral that he didn’t notice the espresso machines had gone quiet until Sendak called his name at the other end of the counter.  Haxus hurried down to claim his drink, doing his best to keep from touching Sendak’s hands when he did, but on such a small cup it was unavoidable.  Their fingertips overlapped, and Haxus felt sparks wherever they touched.

“Enjoy,” Sendak said, almost in a whisper.  The side of his mouth curled up in a delicious, lopsided grin Haxus felt all the way down in his guts.

“I--I will,” Haxus said.  

He stepped back out of range, flashed Sendak a smile of his own, and hurried for the door.  Hopefully, he’d gotten out before Sendak could notice the way he’d blushed, but, well, there was no telling.  He hurried the couple blocks down to the college and sank against the front doors, cradling the cup in his hands.

Sendak had been right.  The cinnamon was delicious.


	3. Mocha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for the Sexus Mini Event--the last entry thereof, actually, and somehow ended up twice as long as both previous chapters on here. Not quite sure how that happened, but...enjoy!

Sendak did his best to focus on the rhythm of running, rather than on the human keeping pace--or, trying to--at his side.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  

Inhale.  Feet pounding on the pavement.  Ignore the flash of white-streaked black out of the corner of his eye.  

Exhale.  

Inhale.  Turn the corner.   _ Ignore _ the huffing breath a pace behind his left elbow.  No paying attention to that.  No time.  

Exhale.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  Next corner.  The hab was nothing like training planetside--the air was different, tangier and more metallic up here.  And the ground underfoot was wrong, less forgiving.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  The facades of buildings blurred past, and he could hear the human pushing himself, trying to gain.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  He's going to make a fool of himself at this rate.  Sendak was barely at a lope yet.  He pushed up a level, stride lengthening as he settled out into a trot.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  

Inhale.  

Exhale.  The human snarled in frustration and Sendak heard him redouble his pace.  They rounded the next corner.  Sendak's building came into view up ahead, and he turned just enough to lock eyes with his running partner.

Shiro's eyes narrowed.  "Oh no you--"

Sendak broke into a sprint, leaving Shiro in his dust and laughing, let himself go the last hundred meters.  His ears pinned back to limit his drag, head tucked, arms pumping.  Not quite his top speed, but close.

He skidded to a stop in front of his building and all but collapsed, heaving for breath and grinning with delight.   _ Gods _ , he loved running.  That was freedom like he hadn't tasted since before the military.

Shiro's footsteps approached, pausing somewhere beside his head.  "You're gonna do that  _ every _ time we run?   _ Really _ ?"

"Of course," Sendak gasped out, rolling over onto his back and cracking his eye open. 

Shiro stood over him, blocking the hab's lighting from Sendak's face--considerate of him--with his hands on his knees.  He looked tired, shiny with sweat and trembling faintly from exertion, and Sendak let himself flash a full-toothed smile, the kind humans liked.  The corner of Shiro's mouth quirked up in reply, and he shook his head.

"You're such an asshole," Shiro huffed.

"You love me," Sendak retorted, not bothering to sit up.  He wouldn't have the energy back for a few more ticks, anyway, so it wasn't like there would be a point. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow.  "I put up with you.  Not sure that's love."

Sendak snorted.  "Oh, is that all?" he asked, raising a brow and tilting his ears sarcastically.

"Shut up," Shiro muttered, nudging Sendak in the ribs with his foot.  "You're really gonna lay here like that?"

"Not any more," Sendak said, pushing himself into a seated position.  His remnant limb throbbed, and he winced, rubbing at his shoulder.

"You alright?" Shiro asked.

"Fine," Sendak said.  He scrambled back to his feet, swaying slightly, and stared down at Shiro, trying not to grin.  "C'mon.  Let's go inside, get cleaned up.  I have a shift in half a varga."

"Looks like we're both working this afternoon," Shiro said, bumping his shoulder against Sendak's arm.  "Did I leave anything at your place last time?"

"Yeah," Sendak said, leading the way up to the door.  "Shirt and a pair of pants, I think."

Shiro snorted.  "Let me guess, you found them doing laundry--"

"And realized they were way too small to be mine," Sendak said.  The door unlocked with a quick palm scan, and he opened it and waved Shiro in.  "You realize that if you stop forgetting clothes here you won't have anything to change into after a run, right?"

"I know," Shiro said.  "It wasn't the Magyck t-shirt, was it?"

"Black with the magenta and...orange graphic?"

"Yellow."

"Close enough."  Sendak unlocked the door to his apartment, letting Shiro in ahead of him.  "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting you over til the end of the movement."

Sendak could see Shiro's eyes roving the main room, taking in the jackets flung carelessly over the back of the couch, the blankets unfolded and piled in one corner, the tangled mess of shoes and boots by the door.  Shiro's mouth quirked into another grin.

"My roommates are worse," he said.

Sendak snorted.  "I can imagine.  Three barely-grown humans.  Or is it four now?"

"Might as well be _five_ , Pidge and Matt practically moved in this last week," Shiro said, crossing his arms.  Sendak did his best not to eye the human's prosthetic.  "Where'd you leave my clothes?"

"Top drawer in the dresser," Sendak said, making his way into the kitchen.  "Water?"

"Please."  Shiro disappeared into Sendak's bedroom, and the Galra leaned heavily on the counter and shut his eye. 

It was nice, having someone else in the apartment.  Even if Shiro was only ever over for a couple vargas, scattered throughout the week.  He'd been considering looking for a roommate, but...well, who knew what he might end up with.  Besides, sometimes people at work were  _ more _ than enough socialization.

...He really wasn't looking forward to that afternoon's shift.  Really, convincing Shiro to stay over the evening and watching a movie sounded more appealing, but...well, the job was important.  And he couldn't really call it a mental health day, just laziness.  He shook himself, retrieved two glasses, filled one with ice, and filled both in the sink.  Then he leaned back against the counter and sipped from the iceless one.

Shiro emerged from the bedroom a dobosh later, white workout tee and loose shorts swapped for the black shirt and denim pants he'd forgotten last time.  Sendak took a tick or two while the human guzzled his glass of water to study the graphic on the shirt.  It was probably yellow, if Shiro said it was, but they both looked the same shade of washed-out reddish to Sendak.  Trust humans to make up colors.  He drained his glass and set it on the counter, then moved past Shiro and into his bedroom.

Shiro had remembered to dim the lights.  Sendak was sort of touched, actually--he'd been bad about it when they'd first begun hanging out, apparently forgetting that Sendak's more sensitive eyes didn't tolerate the same level of brightness Shiro's did.  He pulled open the dresser, debating clothing.  His boss, Zarkon, had a particular dress code he liked his baristas to keep--red, black, or grey shirts, black pants.  Classically Galra aesthetic, really, but if the rumors were right Zarkon was from the old homeworld himself.  Of course he'd be more attached to the old-world look.  Sendak counted himself lucky that those colors flattered him and didn't question it.  He sighed and tugged on the dull red shirt on top, then the black work pants.  Not the nice ones.  He was just filling in for the last half of someone's shift, Hazar if he remembered right.

Which meant he'd be putting up with Throk again.

Joy.

Shiro was tapping away on his communicator when Sendak emerged from the bedroom, but he glanced up immediately at the sound of Sendak's footsteps.  "Allura just messaged," he said, by way of explanation.  "They're going to need me in as soon as I can get there."

"What new catastrophe does she need you to handle?" Sendak asked.

" _ Apparently _ we just got a massive pastry order, and she, Lance, and Coran won't be able to handle it all on their own."

Sendak snorted, shoving his feet into his work shoes.  "Come on, then.  You've got pastries to make, and I have a quarter-varga til my shift starts."

The walk to Cafe Daibazaal--and Altea Baking Company, just across the street--always felt longer after a run, when Sendak was already wobbly from exertion.  It didn't help that Shiro insisted on walking faster than either of them really  _ needed _ to, either, but from what Sendak gathered, humans were like that.  Always rushing from place to place, like if they didn't reach their destination immediately it wouldn't be there when they arrived.  Of course they would still be there.  Places, unlike people, didn't disappear when one turned one's back.  They reached their destination five doboshes before Sendak's shift started--he checked his chronometer, just to be safe--and Shiro clapped him on the shoulder before disappearing through Altea's door.

Sendak hid a wince.  That shoulder, the left one, was beginning to bother him.  It shouldn't have been, he was  _ sure _ he'd been taking care of the remnant limb, but today it was sore and it ached.  The prosthetic probably didn't help, either, but shifts at the Cafe were tricky enough with both hands.  He didn't want to  _ imagine _ trying to do it one-handed.  He pushed open the Cafe's dark glass door and braced himself.

The Cafe was almost empty.  A few tables near the back were occupied--a couple of Balmerans, heads bowed over a tablet or something, a Galra with their back to him, hiding their face, a couple of Olkari discussing something in quiet, urgent voices.  Sendak shrugged and made his way to the back, almost running directly into Hazar.  Sendak towered over him, but then, Sendak towered over practically everyone he knew.  Hazar looked relieved, nodding politely at Sendak as he pulled his apron off over his head.

"Throk's in one of those moods," he said by way of greeting.

"Thanks for the warning," Sendak replied, grabbing his apron off its hook.  No  _ wonder _ Hazar was eager to get out.  Throk in a mood was  _ not _ a pleasant experience.  Sometimes, he was worse than the customers.  Sendak checked his chronometer.  One dobosh.  Right on time.  He slipped out of the back and ducked behind the counter.

Throk eyed him sourly from behind the espresso machines.  "Cutting it a bit close, are we?" he asked snidely.

"Who pinched  _ your _ pigtails?" Sendak retorted.

Throk's sour expression deepened to a scowl.  "You know Zarkon likes us to be at least ten doboshes early," he said, evading the question.

Sendak shrugged and peered into the sink, noting the mugs that needed washing.  He sighed and grabbed the gloves.  "Zarkon isn't in now," he said.  "Besides, this isn't my shift and no time was actually lost.  Don't worry so much."

Throk huffed and turned his back, rifling through the to-go cups.  Sendak ignored it, turning his attention to the mugs.  There were only three, fortunately, all the larger mug size.  Much easier to clean, at least for him.  The tiny espresso cups always felt so delicate, Sendak was afraid of breaking them with an incautious movement.

When he turned around to put the mugs up, Throk had disappeared.

"Typical," Sendak muttered under his breath, reaching up and setting the mugs on the shelf.  Zarkon usually liked them in a particular color order, but during the day all organization went out the window.  Closing shift usually handled that, and tonight that was--Sendak checked the schedule quickly--Thace and Morvok, a relatively new hire.  Poor Thace.  Sendak had worked with Morvok exactly once, and he wasn't sure the short Galra had  _ ever _ worked a cafe before despite his insistence and his resume.

When he turned around, there was a person at the counter.  The Galra from the back corner, actually, and it took him an embarrassing couple of ticks to put the name to the face.  Haxus.  Sendak felt the fur on his ruff stand up and his face heat with embarrassment.  How long had Haxus been  _ standing _ there before Sendak noticed him?

"Haxus!" he said quickly, flashing a smile without teeth.  "Hey, how have you been?  Classes treating you alright?"

"Just fine, thank you," Haxus said, and Sendak paused.  He didn't sound terribly pleased.

"...So, ah, what can I get you today?" Sendak asked.  "Refill on what you had earlier?" 

Haxus's eyes narrowed slightly, and then he sighed.  "No, I was just drinking black earlier."  A hesitation, his head tilting up to study the board.  "...I don't know, something sweet."

"Hot chocolate?  Or an espresso drink?"

Haxus's head tilted thoughtfully.  "Espresso, I think," he said.  "You're quite good at them."

Sendak felt the blood rush to his face.  "I--thank you," he said, quickly glancing up at the board to hide a blush.  "...If you're still interested in the chocolate, though, I think I'd suggest a mocha."

"What all is in a mocha?" Haxus asked, head tipping the other way, and Sendak relaxed a little.

Just explaining a drink.  He could do that.

"Two shots of espresso, twice that in hot chocolate, whipped cream if you want it," he said.

"...That sounds  _ delicious _ , " Haxus said.  Sendak wasn't quite sure why, but the way Haxus said it made his fur fluff up.  Something about the tone of voice, or maybe the way Haxus's gaze had raked Sendak's face, or the faint purr on the last word.

"I'll get right on that," Sendak said, ducking behind the espresso machines.

He hadn't realized Haxus was still lingering at the counter until the Galra said, "So who was the person that walked you here?  I was in, and I couldn't help but notice."

"Oh, you mean Shiro?" Sendak asked, peeking between the espresso machines.  Haxus had his back to the counter, leaning against it, not looking.  "He's a good friend of mine.  We met after I was discharged from the military--you can probably guess why."

"The arm?" Haxus asked.

"Yep," Sendak said.  The arm in question throbbed, and he hid a wince.  "He was in physical therapy at the same place, and we wound up talking.  He...ended up helping me out a lot, with the adjustment."

Haxus hummed.  "And you still spend time together?"

"He was looking for a workout partner," Sendak said.  The espresso machine shut off, and Sendak set to work on the hot chocolate part.  "And I'd gotten used to exercise as part of a routine in the military, so we set something up.  He works across the street at the ABC--had an emergency shift today, so we came in together after a run."

"Huh," Haxus said.  "That was nice of him."  There was an edge to his tone, one Sendak couldn't make heads or tails of.

"He's a good friend," Sendak said.  "Do you want whipped cream on this?"

"What?  Oh, yes please," Haxus said quickly, and Sendak turned, retrieving the spray canister.  He finished the drink, then moved down to the other end of the counter and passed it over to Haxus.

"Here you go," he said, sliding it over.

Haxus nodded, flashing Sendak a grateful expression, and took the mug.  He seemed almost careful not to let his hands touch Sendak's, and for a moment or two he was almost disappointed by the lack of contact.  Then he shook himself.  Why should he be upset by that?  Haxus was a customer.  It would be impolite to expect contact like that, or to push for it.

"Enjoy," he said cautiously, watching Haxus's face.

The smaller Galra tilted his head up, meeting Sendak's gaze directly, and Sendak felt...pinned, almost.  Pierced through, layers of his self peeled back under Haxus's wide golden eyes.

"I will," Haxus said, finally, and the air came back.  He turned away, taking his cup back towards his table, and Sendak let his shoulders slump.  Something had changed, there.  Something was different, and it set him on edge.

He turned to the back room.  Time to drag Throk out of wherever he'd been hiding and get him back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> *chuckling nervously* I know, I know, I have another big project to work on--I just couldn't resist.
> 
> The coffeeshop AU nobody asked for.


End file.
